


Just Two Fools in Love or My Darling, I Adore You

by Introvertedfangirl



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Geralt understand emotions in this one, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Or is it wink wink hehe, Pre-Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Rated T for curses whoops, Romantic Fluff, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Tenderness, Timeline What Timeline, Unrequited Love, lol let's just assume it takes place after S1 one whoops sorry!, this may be the softest thing I've ever written, yah the I'm obsessed with romance really came out in this fic, yeah we really don't know canon here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Introvertedfangirl/pseuds/Introvertedfangirl
Summary: They're both idiots in loveExcerpt:This time he whispers silently, the hand on Jaskier’s arm has now raised up. Up to the Bard’s cheek and there it rests gently.Softly enough that Jaskier might move away if he wishes to, but firm enough that Jaskier finds himself helplessly leaning into that warm calloused heat.“You fool, you love me don’t you?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	Just Two Fools in Love or My Darling, I Adore You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I'm lonely so therefore -> fanfiction because why not💀💀. This is honestly the softest thing I think I've ever written. It's the way that Geralt and Jaskier have been my comfort ship since i was a junior for meee( ?? 2018, 2019) ( and no I have not read any different fandoms since. It's mental illness innit.

Bruised purple-pink skies caress a bustling landscape of peaked grey ranges where the snow-white caps have just begun to melt. Where a darling tree line of pointed poplars scratches the horizon.

A meadow of sweet blooms, of lissome lilacs and sanguine gilia, sways gently in the warm south breeze. Silken petals are fuzzed to touch. Below, in the valley of some fathomless lake, the ghostly call of a loon flits, tied into the dewy air of that summer eve’s.

_Yes it’s brilliant_. 

Brilliant where Jaskier and Geralt have finally stopped on what has been an almost weeklong trip to find _the sorceress_. Geralt has been insistent on the fact that they do not stop. But when they had reached the cliffside meadows of Perolia, the Witcher without a word of warning had raised his hand, stopping Roach and announced that this is where they were to finally make camp. 

Though perhaps surprised by the older man’s seemingly sudden decision, Jaskier knew better than to question it, so for once in his life he obediently acquiesced.

Now, Geralt lies in the bed roll opposite him, his chest rising slowly, his mind sunk into a deep slumber. An unusual expression of softness begets his countenance, smoothing out its usual furrowed manner, and Jaskier is overtaken by an overwhelming urge to be tender.

To brush away the lost strands of white that have loosened with the winds of that summer’s eve. He does not though, knowing that Geralt will not be pleased to be woken from his sleep so.

Instead the Poet is grateful that Geralt appears to be at peace and free of his usual scowl. Something that Jaskier _knows_ is caused by that ceaseless state of survival mode the man must habitually maintain.

It is a Witcher’s way.

And no matter how human Jaskier knows Geralt to be, it does not change the fact that there has not been many in his life to make the older man wary of that fact.

The Bard cannot fault the man’s often narrow outlook upon himself. All he can do is ensure that Geralt knows he will never think of him as a monster. There are too many real one’s for that nonsense.

Fact is, it’s taken, years for Geralt to _trust_ Jaskier.

Years on the Path and their own path’s inevitably intertwining with each other.

Years that include months, _months_ where both the Bard and his Witcher have seen nary a wisp of the other

Of hurtful, painful words that have come out of both men’s mouths. Blurted out in _small_ moments. At this point both men have gained new scars, some from each other, and many from the world.

Scars heal, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a ghost of the old ache.

Drawing a hand across his dark curls Jaskier let’s out a soft huff of air, pausing in this reverie of his.

Gods, it _has_ taken years hasn’t it, and a smile, not quite rueful, not quite happy plays upon pink lips. Years for Geralt to begin to ease and settle around Jaskier. Not until the Witcher was sure the younger man would not stab him in the back-metaphorically or literally.

_Have I been a fool_

A fool to follow this man over an entire continent many times over.

His fingers splay across his chest as if to somehow hold his heart there, and he whispers, daring the truth to give flight. His voice trembles.

“A man you love”

There is an unmistakable rustling of the bedroll beside him. An unfamiliar pressure begins to press in Jaskier’s chest.

_Fuck_

If Jaskier has ever deserved anything good in his life before, let it be now. Please, he cannot, must not have heard those words. Any hope that Geralt is simply stirring in his sleep is done away by the sleep hazed eyes that now meet his. For a moment blue melts into gold.

Finally, Geralt breaks the silence. His tone is quieter than Jaskier had expected, and what? No inkling of annoyance or frustration at having been woken. Geralt’s low timbre settles over him.

“What were you talking about just then Bard. A man you love?” Geralt almost appeared as if he would have liked to finish off this sentence with _who_ , but he refrains. A fact for which Jaskier is extremely thankful for.

“Hmm”, he begins to ramble, “funny thing is I thought you were asleep.”

At this Geralt does _that_ thing. That infernal expression he only uses so often because he knows. Gods he fucking knows it melts Jaskier. The Witcher’s brow has arched slightly and he has let out a soft huff of exasperation. But that rarely expressive countenance beholds a gentle inkling of patient curiosity. He is willing to listen.

“Bard you have dodged the question entirely. You woke me from my sleep, the best thing you can do is explain yourself.”

Unthinkingly Jaskier bites his lip slightly, while thinking about his options. Despite whatever Geralt has said he knows that the older man will not force him to say anything he does not want to. At the same time he hates lying to the Witcher. Perhaps he can speak in half truths then. Nervously clutching his hands he begins.

“Fine, there is a man I love; however he does not love me back.” As if an after thought the Bard mutters, “has not nor shall he ever.” Here Geralt almost seems as if he wants to interrupt but Jaskier cannot allow it, strangely enough not making Geralt aware of who he is talking about almost hurts as much as telling the truth might.

“It’s impossible really,” Jaskier attempts to make light of this statement but his laugh falls flat. Watery. “He’d never think twice about me it’s much better that way too. For I think it would hurt both of us if he were ever to find out the truth. He is a good man, and it would cause him grief to reject me

There is something warm on Jaskier’s arm and looking down he is surprised to see Geralt’s hand resting there. Looking up he is shocked to see an indecipherable look on Geralt’s face. I—i-f it were anyone else? Jaskier might have said it was…but no… The words that leave the Witcher’s mouth are no less surprising than the touch on his forearm- so warm and grounding.

“You utter fool man.”

Despite the chosen verbiage the words have been spoken with affection. Jaskier’s mouth hangs open. He cannot help but begin to bluster, though there is little heat behind his act.

“I-I, call me a fool Witcher would you? After I have laid my heart bare to you.”

The older man’s face has lost some of the amused look behind his eyes. And now yes, there is definitely a tender expression on Geralt’s face and fuck it Jaskier feels like running. For once in his life the threads of conversation have come loose from his grip. He is lost at sea.

It seems that Geralt is intent on brining him back to shore though.

This time he whispers silently, the hand on Jaskier’s arm has now raised up. Up to the Bard’s cheek and there it rests gently.

Softly enough that Jaskier might move away if he wishes to, but firmly enough that Jaskier finds himself helplessly leaning into that warm calloused heat.

“You fool, you love me don’t you?”

Now Jaskier is full on shaking, his breath rushing out chasing the words of admittances that he cannot take back now. Geralt is now leaning over the bedrolls, into Jaskier’s space. His hand still on the Bard’s cheek. 

The words are in Jaskier, the words are _fucking there_. But this one time, this one time when he needs it most, he cannot speak. By the Gods above he has been rendered silent. To his utter horror tears have begun to roll down his face too.

Geralt seems to be taking his behavior all in stride though, and his thumb now brushes across Jaskier’s face, wiping away forgotten hopes, and daring dreams. That tender movement undoes the Poet completely, and his tears turn to sobs.

“Jask—"

“G’ralt,” Jaskier mumbles through salty tears.

“Do not cry so Dandelion.”

Here Jaskier shifts back from Geralt, an almost hysterical laugh falling from his mouth.

“Agh, you bloody bastard! You can’t tell me not to cry. Not after—,” He gesticulates wildly between them. “All this,” he finishes.

“I-I love you too. No, I have loved you for- well never bother for how long. Let’s just say it’s been a really long time.”

Jaskier’s tears have now slowed to slow sniffles. Some of them just happen to be slightly indignant.

“And now, well now y-you steal the thunder from me. “Gods how’d you even know?” Jaskier lets out a soft sigh.

Through all this Geralt has kept quiet now he removes his hand from Jaskier’s cheek. The Bard would complain, but now his hand is resting atop Jaskier’s, his thumb stroking the skin there.

_Is this what heaven feels like_

“I know,” Geralt pauses and a look akin to regret flashes across his face. “I know that I have not always been the warmest of people. In fact often concerning you I have been unfriendly." He grimaces.

“Cruel even.” Here Jaskier squeezes his hand. His eyes seek Geralt’s as if to remind him that past grievances though perhaps not completely forgotten yet, have been forgiven.

“But you are what I think of when I wake, and when I rest at night, then he smiles and adds in a quiet tone, “and most often, in the in-between times too.” “As to how I knew,” and suddenly Geralt’s hand is back on Jaskier’s cheek as he brings their foreheads to touch.

“Witcher’s are not nearly as emotionally incompetent as one might assume.

He smirks suddenly and adds in a breath. “And you my Bard are nowhere near as subtle as you might think you are.”

Jaskier blushes furiously at this, he still feels shaky from everything that has gone down. They have moved away from one another again, their foreheads no longer touching, and Jaskier is wont to close the space again

_Fuck_

Without even attempting to think about it his voice wobbles, but there is a steady undercurrent of confidence. The type born from such an unusual and unexpected summer’s eve.

“Kiss me,

just—,

Kiss me Witcher”

And Geralt does not believe he has ever heard that word said so tenderly or purely. When the two men’s lips are near, they both pause, shaking with the effort to not close the distance.

Even now Jaskier’s heart races in his chest almost as if he cannot believe it’s real. Geralt is intent on showing him it is.

He presses his lips to Jaskier’s, and there is soft warmth there.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I hope you enjoyed. As always kudos and comments are appreciated. I need something to boost my serotonin in the pandemy💗


End file.
